We Need To Talk
by FLUFF-N-UTTER-1
Summary: Connor has a problem at his flat, Tom and Duncan help. Connor's got a past. (1.1)
1. Unnecessary Roughness

**Disclaimer: Primeval does not belong to me, this is fan fiction, not for profit.**

**Any references to people, places, businesses etc is entirely fictitious.**

1.1 We Need To Talk

Connor came home to the flat after his last lecture. He was tired, it had been a long day and he was moving on autopilot. It was quiet when he opened the door. At first he thought that was a good sign. But when he started to set his laptop on the hall table and it wasn't there, he realized that maybe quiet wasn't a good thing.

The furniture was gone. All of it. No comfy old couch, no telly, and no table. None of his video games were there either. We've been robbed… maybe… he halfway hoped. She'd be angry again, but surely there wasn't any way this could be his fault. Right?

As he moved further into the flat though, he saw the broken dishes and broken picture frames. Robbers might drop something and break it, but this… He stood still, surveying the damage. He bent over and carefully picked up the picture at his feet. Shattered glass fell to the floor. The grinning faces of his friends, Tom and Duncan, along with his own face, stared back at him. Holding the picture, he stepped into the bedroom.

If anything, it was worse.

By this time, he was expecting the room to be devoid of furnishings. No bed, no dresser, no bookcase, no night stand and no lamp. What he didn't expect to see were the pages of his books ripped from their covers, scattered like oversize pieces of confetti across the floor. Her clothes were gone. His clothes still hung in the closet, sort of. The shirts and pants looked like some sort of predator had clawed it… and maybe it had.

He shivered.

_-x-x-x-x-x-x_

The cell phone startled him with the theme song to Battlestar Galactica. Tom, he thought.

_-x-x-x-x-x-x_

Duncan was looking at Tom with big round eyes. "Well," he mouthed quietly "is it safe to come over with pizza now?"

Tom rolled his eyes in exasperation. "He hasn't answered yet," he replied, "how am I supposed to say?"

"If he's not answering, do you think that means they're rowing again?"

Tom smirked, "Either that or… making up". Duncan's eyes got even bigger.

_-x-x-x-x-x-x_

The cell phone alarm woke him at six. He was cold and stiff from sleeping on the floor. The shock had worn off some, and his brain was starting to work. A good hot shower, he decided, that's what he needed. He went into the bathroom and realized there weren't any towels.

The refrigerator was empty too. By this time, he was expecting it, but really? What on earth had he done to deserve this?

He ran into Tom and Duncan in the caff… they teased him about looking like he'd slept in his clothes. In between bites of muffin and sips of tea, he told them. He had.

_-x-x-x-x-x-x_

After classes, he headed back to the flat. The rent was paid up to the end of the semester thankfully, and he could eat in the cafeteria… use the printer in the library for his reports. He'd manage.

As he rounded the street corner he saw Tom and Duncan sitting on the steps to the flat. Tom had a broom. Duncan had pizza.

The cleaning went quickly. Soon the debris of his latest relationship was in the rubbish bin.

"Well mate," said Tom, "I think we've done a right good job here. Cleaned up that mess she made… any idea what set her off this time?

A mouthful of pepperoni pizza forestalled any immediate words, so he just raised his hands palm up and flat in a universal gesture. He swallowed.

"What did she say when you saw her last," asked Duncan curiously.

"We need to talk," said Connor.

_-x-x-x-x-x-x_


	2. Potential

**Disclaimer: Primeval does not belong to me, this is fan fiction, not for profit.**

**Any references to people, places, businesses etc is entirely fictitious.**

_-x-x-x-x-x-x_

Classes kept him busy, Tom and Duncan kept him busier. There was game night, with pepperoni pizza of course. A trip to a thrift shop found him with some clothes to wear. He started writing to his penpal in the Gambia again.

Somehow, his mum found out. Neither Tom nor Duncan would admit to saying anything, but something must have slipped, one of them said something to a parent, and then one thing led to another… She was there on the next train.

"Connor," said his mother in a troubled tone, "what kind of girl steals your furniture, destroys your books and clothes?"

"Dunno," he replied. He had met the pretty brunette last semester; they'd hit it off. He'd thought it was love, but now… he didn't know anymore.

"She didn't appreciate you…" started his mother.

His head jerked up and he turned to look at her. Please, he thought, she didn't really say that again.

Maybe she picked up on his thoughts, with that peculiar radar that mother's seem to have, because she looked closely at him, paused whatever she was going to say for a moment. Then continued carefully, "Connor," she said "next time, if you think there's potential for a real relationship… just take it slow. Get to know her first, yeah."

"Take it slow, yeah Mum. Got it," said Connor.

_-x-x-x-x-x-x_

Then there was the Forest of Dean. Wonders of time past paled in comparison to a petite blonde with an inquisitive mind and a love of lizards.

He'd tread carefully this time, do his research first. This Stephen… he looked to be an experienced man. His opinion might be helpful.

"Hey Stephen," Connor asked, "What do you think of Abby?"


End file.
